


Like You Hate Me

by Ennead



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-22
Updated: 2009-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-24 09:09:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennead/pseuds/Ennead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan ruins another of Charles' suits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like You Hate Me

**Author's Note:**

> This was written after Season 2 ended and before Season 3 aired. It is intended to be set some time before the events of the Season 2 finale, for any difference that that may make. 
> 
> I do not own Metalocalypse and make no profit from my fan work.

Nathan hated that suit.

He loved Charles, without question; but the suit was another matter entirely. Large portions of his day were spent despising the fine, expensive cloth that helped the man to maintain his image as Dethklok's manager, and only when the sun set and the other occupants of Mordhaus retired to their rooms was he allowed to express that hatred. This often resulted in Charles having to purchase new suits. 

It certainly would tonight. 

"Oh god," Charles breathed, feeling the frontman's teeth scrape his bared throat roughly as his jacket was torn off. Torn was no exaggeration - he heard cloth split and the two halves were flung away, off towards where his red tie lay twisted in a still-knotted heap. He couldn't bring himself to care; not then, with those heavy hands all over him, and Nathan hissing through his teeth as Charles raked short but sharp nails up the smooth flesh of his back. Fuck the suit, fuck the tie, fuck the shirt - most importantly, fuck him, oh god please fuck him. 

He voiced his concerns to the singer, watching Nathan's reaction as he begged shamelessly. Seeing his face respond to that was priceless to Charles, the unrestrained snarl a relief to hear as he was thrown backwards onto his bed. Eyes dark and focused, Nathan stripped off his own shirt and moved to cover Charles with his body, their mouths slanting across each other desperately. Large hands tore at white cloth, ripping again, destroying the shirt. 

Nathan wanted to tear apart that suit. More, he wanted to tear apart the paper man Charles pretended to be during the daylight hours. He wanted to fuck a hole through that facade, to leave him branded with bruises and scratches and bite marks; to claim him so roughly that even the next suit he donned wouldn't be able to hide what had been done to him. 

He wanted to ruin Charles. 

Shirt gone, Charles stopped clawing at Nathan to undo his own belt, tossing it aside and working on his pants. The singer seized his slim hips and lifted him off the mattress, yanking off the slacks and letting them fall behind him to the floor. Charles' fingers went to Nathan's waistband, but his hands were caught up and pressed back over his head forcefully. The look Nathan directed at him could nearly be rage, it was so intense, but he knew better and it sent a sharp knife of anticipation right into his heart. 

Undoing his own jeans onehandedly, Nathan ran his tongue across Charles' jugular, smirking as the smaller man's head tipped back to allow him access. It was so fucking trusting, that action, that he simply had to take advantage of it. Charles bucked suddenly as a sharp bite was delivered to his throat, groaning in ecstasy. It had hurt like hell, maybe broken the skin, but he couldn't begin to care.

His hands were released as Nathan stood to do away with his jeans and underwear, smouldering glare still fixed firmly on Charles' eyes and body. The moment he was free of clothing, the frontman launched himself at Charles again, pinning him roughly with his whole body and bringing his face up for a crushing kiss, fingers so tight on the other man's jaw they were sure to bruise. The heat between them built up quickly, their movements erratic and unplanned, too frantic to feel every part of each other to coordinate in any way. Nathan drew back to survey his prey, taking in the sight of a slightly bloody nip on Charles' throat and a flush spreading up his chest and onto his cheeks. He lay panting beneath the larger man, entirely shameless and eyes pleading, wet mouth falling open to gasp at the air he was allowed in that moment before Nathan touched him again. 

Nathan tightened his grip on Charles' wrists with that hand, pressing his arms hard into the mattress. He kept his free hand busy, tracking red lines on the other man's chest and sides as he explored him possessively. Charles rose off the mattress with his hips and shoulders when that hand finally found his cock, giving him the first direct attention he'd had the whole time. The relief of even being touched for a second was dazing, forcing the air from his lungs and the sound from his throat. Nathan snarled in response, bucking against his ass impatiently. 

Still pinned, Charles watched Nathan navigate his dresser by the bed, retrieve the lube, and apply the smallest of amounts to himself. It was just enough to make it bearable, just enough for Charles to nearly salivate at the idea of what he was going to have. He knew everything he wanted and was could be seen painted across his face at that moment, but with only Nathan there to see it, he didn't care.

Nathan loved it. Nobody else would ever see Charles come undone that way, see his eyes wild, lips parted, legs spread wantonly. Only he could do it to him that way. Only he could make him forget his suits and paperwork and manners, and leave him screaming.

The moment Charles needed didn't come, and he looked at Nathan expectantly, chest heaving. He felt the head pressed against him, knew that what he wanted was right there and it would only take one movement to make him lose his mind. That movement, though, wasn't coming. He twitched, trying to force a response from the suddenly still singer.

And then Charles knew what he wanted. He knew what Nathan was waiting to hear. And he could not deny him that, because by then he was already irretrievably lost in how badly he needed to feel that almost-rage Nathan had for him. 

"Fuck me," he panted, locking eyes with Nathan purposefully. "Come on, fuck me. Fuck me like you hate me."

Nathan complied, one powerful thrust burying him in the smaller man and shoving the bed back several inches. Charles let out a broken half-shout, arching, and pushed back against the next thrust to feel it go that much deeper. It hurt, like his wrists and neck hurt, but he'd never wanted to be broken so badly as he did right then.

Refusing to slow down, indeed unable to, Nathan only increased his speed and force on Charles' body, ramming into him with everything he had. The bed scraped on the floor, sheets popping off the sides of the mattress as they forced themselves against it. Nathan felt Charles' legs wrap around his waist, and used his free hand to lift him at the ass, getting a better angle on him. Choked gasps became higher, thinner, smacking of need as he brought Charles closer to release. Any other time, perhaps, he would have tried to draw it out and prolong the experience, but he had no control over himself, and seeing Charles unraveled before him was intoxicating. 

Finally came the noise he'd been waiting for, a sharp and shattered scream that ripped out of Charles throat as he came between them, between all that movement and force and heat. Seeing the man's spine arch and mouth gape had him at the edge, from which he gladly threw himself. No words could be pulled from the sound Nathan made, but it was primal and masculine, making Charles' eyes snap open to see bright green ones locked on him as Nathan pounded through the last waves of release. 

Spent and exhausted, Nathan collapsed just to the side of Charles, trying not to crush him with his weight. He rolled onto his back, ignoring the sting he felt there that indicated broken skin. It took his last dregs of quickly-dwindling energy to yank Charles atop his chest, possessively holding him there with one arm.

Nathan, one. Suit, zero.


End file.
